


Desperate times call for desperate measures

by MelindaCoulson4



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Lemons, Love Confessions, Traditions, post 5x18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-27 20:09:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14433159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelindaCoulson4/pseuds/MelindaCoulson4
Summary: “I tell you I love you and in response you put a lemon on my bed?” The origin of a tradition. Post 5x18, philinda oneshot





	Desperate times call for desperate measures

**Author's Note:**

> of course I had to write something about the lemons

_Deke_

He'd walked into the kitchen intending to grab two lemons, believing that he was lucky to be here in 2018. This was so much easier than saving up tokens for over a month just for one lemon. Here they had a seemingly unlimited supply. A bag of lemons at the store only costed $2. It blew his mind when he found that out.    
  
What he didn't expect to find was Yo-Yo and her new robo-hands eviscerating any and all lemons in sight. The counter had been turned into an absolute mess of juice, seeds, and pulp.   
  
He watches in horror as she smashes her palms together, completely flattening the lemon between them. The juice went spraying in all directions, most of it missing the intended bowl underneath the rind.   
  
He realizes that she isn't just squeezing lemons for the juice; no, she's destroying them for fun.   
  
"Why would you do that? Oh my God!" He yells in protest, eyes bulging out of their sockets.   
  
She turns, flashes him a grin and goes back to squeezing the fresh lemon between her fingers, but this time with just one hand. "What? They're just lemons. Calm down...your oranges are safe," she tells him, shrugging her shoulders.   
  
"No no no. They need to be lemons!" He slams his fist on the countertop. _It's tradition!  
_  
Oh no. This can't be happening. They'd been quarantined to the base by Daisy for safety purposes. No one leaves unless on mission, that’s what she’d said. And they had enough supplies to last them for years. But lemons weren't a part of that inventory. They only had the bag that they'd accumulated recently. The bag that’s now been all but emptied by Yo-Yo.  
  
His hands run through his hair, tightly gripping clumps between his fingers.   
  
"Here. There's still one left." She places the last lemon in front of him on the counter.   
  
"I needed two. One for me and one for Coulson," he protests. _Can't she understand the importance of this?_  
  
"Well, I don't know what to tell you. I guess only one of you gets it."

* * *

 

 _Deke_  
  
On his journey to Daisy's room, he passes the gym. He'd never seen such an open space devoid of people before. Mats, weights, and equipment are scattered all around the room. Punching bags hang from the ceilings. He'd never known what a punching bag was until May had shown him, then immediately commented that he was like a human punching bag. Her delivery was deadpan, so he had no idea if she was joking or not. Probably not, he thinks.   
  
One day, decades from now, this gym will be turned into 'the hub'. It was the only place to go when you wanted something- when you were willing to make a trade.   
  
He watches through the small window in the double door entrance as May absolutely pummels the punching bag in front of her. She smashes fists against it, relentlessly pounding and grunting with no signs of stopping. All of her built up rage seemed to shine through whenever she was hitting something. He'd definitely felt it the time she punched him in the face.

Looking at her now, the kicks and punches are backed by much more force than he's ever seen. She's obviously going through something. He suspects it has to do with the stony glares she keeps shooting Coulson's way every time they're in the same room together.   
  
_Well, that's Coulson's problem to deal with._  
  
Right now, he's got his own romantic dilemma. He has to find Daisy's room, drop off the lemon, and scram before she catches him. He continues down the hall searching for that magic number. Room 342.   
  
Once he gets there, he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out his lock picking tools.   
  
Just as he slides the two metal pieces out of the case he hears the door opening.   
  
_Shit._    
  
Quickly, he shoves it all back in his pocket and freezes in time to see Daisy stepping into the hall.

She pauses, squinting at him.   
  
"What?" He asks, feigning nonchalance.   
  
"Why do you have a lemon?"  
  
There's no recognition in her eyes. She has no idea what a lemon means. To her it's just a food.   
  
He knew Mack and Coulson lied only to placate him. There was no lemon courting tradition in this time period.    
  
He deflates. "It's.....for Coulson."  
  
She only raises an eyebrow, still baffled by him.   
  
"Don't ask," he mumbles before she can pry anymore and turns to find Coulson.

Coulson can give the lemon to May. 

* * *

 _Deke_  
  
He finds Coulson in their command center surrounded by other agents. But, while the agents scurry about clearly busy with some task, Coulson sits on one of the chairs silently. He has glasses on which is a new look that Deke hasn't seen. Coulson's arms are crossed over his chest, his gaze faraway, deep in thought as if he was concentrating on burning a hole in the floor with his mind.   
  
Deke steps right up to him, yet Coulson doesn't react at all.   
  
"Here," Deke says placing the lemon in the crook of Coulson's folded arms. He doesn't want the damn thing anymore. It's of no use. Daisy would never accept it anyway.   
  
Coulson startles slightly, staring down at the new object. "What's this for?"  
  
Deke has lost all patience. "Are you really that dense, man? I know you and May have a.....thing. So just take the leap and give it to her."  
  
He doesn't wait for Coulson's response.   
  
"You better use it cuz it's the last one," Deke tells him, pointing at the lemon and walking away. It's Coulson's problem now. 

* * *

 

 _Phil_  
  
He never expected to do this. Now that he's actually in Melinda’s room he's regretting it all. What kind of idiot goes into someone's room and leaves a lemon with nothing else? Apparently he does, seeing as he's already strategically placed it on top of the blankets and against her pillow. Maybe he should just-  
  
"What the _hell_ are you doing?"  
  
He squeezes his eyes shut, hoping for just a millisecond that it would make him disappear. When that doesn't happen he scrambles to explain just what he would be doing in here. "Uhhh.....nothing....just-"  
  
His brain short circuits, coming up short. Instead all he can think about is fleeing. Turning on his heel, he makes a break for it, knowing he's destined to fail before he even takes one step.   
  
Her reflexes are quick, like always as she moves in front of the doorway, effectively blocking his only exit.  
  
His eyes settle on her damp hair pushed behind her shoulders, giving him an unobstructed view of the creamy skin of her chest. The camisole that she wears dips enticingly down showing off more bare skin than he's seen in such a long time from her.   
  
"Is that a.....lemon on my bed?" She asks, staring at him completely dumbfounded.  
  
_Busted_. "Yea," he confesses, blowing out a breath.   
  
"Did you put it there?" She questions, crossing her arms over her chest.   
  
"I might have," he responds, evading the truth.   
  
"Why?"  
  
"Apparently in the future when you want to be with someone you're supposed to leave a lemon on their bunk," he explains, feeling like a complete moron, similar to a teenage boy caught passing a love letter in class.   
  
"And you know this how?"  
  
His eyes fall closed, knowing that his answer will be the final nail in his mortification coffin. "Deke."  
  
"Oh so instead of coming to talk to me which would require using actual words you break into my room and put a lemon on my bed because a guy from the future who is high on pain meds told you to?"   
  
"Uh yea that's right." What else could he say? He pulls at the collar of his t-shirt suddenly feeling like it’s much too tight around his neck.   
  
She huffs, unimpressed by his answers.   
  
"I tell you I love you and in response you put a lemon on my bed?"  
  
The flip that his heart goes through as she repeats the ‘I love you’ so casually is out of his rational control.   
  
Instead of leaving or staring at him with contempt a laugh escapes her mouth.   
  
It surprises him, but he grins as the sound fills the air.   
  
He loves it and wants to be the reason for it leaving her mouth every day.   
  
It's short lived though. She tosses her hands up in the air with an equal mix of amusement, confusion, and exhaustion. "What the hell, Phil?"  
  
He's on a thin line here, but now is his chance. It's the icebreaker that he needed. He grabs the lemon off of her bed and walks towards her, holding it up. "It's more of a conversation starter since I'm clearly useless at that."  
  
"Clearly," she agrees.   
  
He pushes the lemon into his front pocket and grabs both of her hands.   
  
"No words seem adequate enough for you. So I've just stayed silent. But that's the problem. I've never been able to tell you the truth....how much I've valued you sticking by me all of these years." He pauses, collecting his thoughts before revealing the rest.   
  
"You've been my best friend and my partner. I've had you by my side and lost you...which has been my fault each time. I let you go and I never should've let it happen," he tells her making sure to meet her eyes, so she understands how serious he is about this.   
  
"Phil." Her voice comes out shaky, laced with the hurt of reliving their history. How they'd lost each other so many times throughout the years.   
  
"I should've fought for us." The long list of regrets rolls through his mind, never revealing the depth of his feelings being his number one. But he knows he can't change what's already happened. The only thing he can change right now is the present.   
  
A tear drops from her eyelid and rolls down her cheek.   
  
He swallows past the lump in his throat. "You mean everything to me. I never want to be without you. I love you." He squeezes her hands as he says the words.   
  
The next second, he's trying to keep his balance as he's knocked backwards with her weight and his own.   
  
She'd let go of his hands and curled them around the front of his shirt, bringing her mouth to his before his brain could process her movements.  
  
Her lips are soft and inviting. He could drown in her. Hell, he wants to. If they had no responsibilities he'd lock them away in this room for days on end, so they'd get the time to properly explore each other.   
  
But reality seems to loom over their heads like an approaching storm cloud. So he'll take what he can get for now and that's Melinda and her body pressed against his.    
  
He pulls away from her lips momentarily, holding the lemon between them.    
  
"So do you accept the lemon?" He asks, unashamedly flirting with her now.   
  
"Yes, you idiot."  
  
He passes it to her.   
  
In no time at all, she sets it down on the table behind her and latches her mouth back onto his. The kiss is deeper this time with more heat behind it. No shame or questioning in it.   
  
They don't break the kiss again until he falls back onto her bed with her landing on top of him, forcing their mouths to part. 

They both smile then dive right back in, fusing their lips together.

They stay in her room for the next three hours. When they come out he is barely able to hold back the satisfied smirk on his face as he pats Deke on the back.  
  
It’s the first successful case of the lemon tradition: one that will be carried on for decades to come.

 

//end//

 

**Author's Note:**

> Leave me something if you enjoyed :) Thanks for reading!


End file.
